Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger surveyed the damage at La Conchita on Wednesday and declared a state of emergency for Ventura County. He will ask the president to do the same in hopes of getting federal funds to help pay for what early estimates list as $62 million in damage from flooding that ransacked the county.

As the governor's helicopter hovered above the mudslide that swallowed lives in seconds and demolished 13 homes, rescue workers halted the round-the-clock digging, thinking they had discovered another body in the earth.

Before Schwarzenegger touched down at the beachside community, the earthmovers and bulldozers and chain saws fired up again; no one was found.

"It's unbelievable the amount of dirt that came down," Schwarzenegger said.

Rescuers pulled the bodies of three daughters and their mother from the earth early Wednesday morning after their father and husband, Jimmie Wallet, spent the previous days pawing through the soil.

Ten people are confirmed dead. As many as 20 others are unaccounted for, but officials said there is a small probability they are trapped in the landslide.

Officials will determine today whether they will continue to assume the victims are alive.

Costs are mounting

Rescue efforts at La Conchita, from bulldozers to food to helicopter flights, are costing the county about $750,000 a day, and costs could climb to $10 million, said county Supervisor Steve Bennett, who was among the state and local officials who briefed Schwarzenegger.

If the county is declared a federal disaster area, the federal government could pay most of the county's recovery costs from the flooding, which destroyed 50 homes. The state and county would split the rest.

The governor walked among the splintered houses and peered into the earth where dogs -- searching for the living and the dead -- sniffed the settling mud. A group of firefighters resting beneath a flag at half-staff waved at Schwarzenegger.

If residents want to rebuild their community, the governor said he wouldn't stop them. But county officials said it's too early to speculate about La Conchita's fate.

"Hopefully he's not going to condemn this town," said resident Shaun Hart, who learned to surf and had his first kiss in the eclectic beach community. "I just hope they get this cleaned up and do something with the mountain so it doesn't feel dangerous."

After a week of rain, Wednesday was a day that showcased the reasons so many chose to live in an area known for disasters. A warm sun filled the clear skies, and waves stroked the beach just across the freeway.

But the day was anything but normal.

Along the community's main drag, Surfside Drive, piles of pieces of broken homes pulled from the mudslide grew higher than the nearby houses. Dog kennels and sofa cushions and flannel shirts -- all covered in mud -- lie among the roof shingles and floor tiles.

Cars lined up for a block

A row of cars pulled from the wreckage stretched for a block. Mud and debris filled Burning Man buses and BMWs alike.

The pile of mud was moved one bulldozer at a time from the mudslide to the edge of the neighborhood.

All day, a handful of rescue workers eyed the gash in the hillside in case the earth fell again.

Residents whose homes weren't destroyed, but were deemed uninhabitable, were allowed back to the site for the first time in groups of twos to pick up their belongings. They quickly headed back to their hotels or friends' homes, wherever they were staying.

They lined up along Highway 101 waiting for police cars to drive them to what was once their home, planning what they'd retrieve.

Karen Rauch wanted her frozen breast milk for her child. And her heart medication.

Diane Jennings was going to get her jewelry. Her husband, Ted, was after some of his musical instruments.

Residents recover belongings

Steve Holmstrom just wanted to change out of the clothes he'd been wearing since he ran from his home Monday afternoon.

Rob Coleman walked up the quiet streets toward his home, past piles of homes and rows of cars, to retrieve the deed for his house, which was 50 feet from the carnage.

"That was my neighbor's car," he said, pointing at the junkyard.

"I've already done all my crying," Coleman said in a quivering voice.

About 35 residents, such as Dennis Anderson, never left La Conchita, living without power. Up the road from his house, the mudslide sat like a tongue from the mountain. Anderson figured if another hits, it might take his first floor, but he'll be safe on the second.

He wouldn't dare leave his community of kind people, nice beach, quiet life, he said.

Despite the tragedy that overtook his neighborhood, this is a good place, he said.

"We've got the mountains here," he said. "Sometimes they aren't so good to you. Sometimes they are."